


Before the Storm

by Daecus



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: CrossDrift, Drug Use, Intoxication, M/M, Mild Language, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daecus/pseuds/Daecus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-war Drift and Crosshairs get acquainted. How it all began.</p><p>Inspired by this: http://bicobooty.tumblr.com/post/91911216851/for-crossdrift-do-you-think-it-was-crosshairs-or-drift<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crosshairs's coworker convinces/challenges Crosshairs to go downtown to go clubbin'.  
> Name of the club inspired by this: http://crashboombanger.tumblr.com/post/90509482132

" _Stabbing pain for the feeling_  
 _Now your wound's never healing_  
 _'Til you're numb, oh, it's begun_  
 _Before we all become one_ "

~"We All Become," by Darren Korb, Ashley Barrett

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hmmmm." Crosshairs pondered as he squinted at the inside of a rifle cartridge. "There's your problem: the cooling mechanisms are worn out. Part of it's corroded, see? Ya need a new mechanism if ya want ta be able ta shoot without it overheatin' so much," Crosshairs pointed to said cooling system for his customer.

"When will you be able to fix it?" the mech asked, not really acknowledging Crosshairs's input.

"It's quittin' time, now. I'll fix it by 1600 t'morrow. Now, the price varies depending on-"

"Just fix the damn thing and I'll pay for whatever," Crosshairs's customer interrupted. "It's getting late. I have to go." Crosshairs had to keep himself from punching the mech as she strutted out of the workshop, clenching his fists and narrowing his optics at her in order to keep himself restrained.

"Don't let her bother you, Crosshairs. Some mechs are like that all the time," a voice came out from the storage room at the back of the workshop. A white mech just a little taller than Crosshairs approached him after exiting the store room.

"I don't know how you deal with these guys, Autocannon." Crosshairs sighed. Autocannon, or Auto, was a new acquaintance of Crosshairs, but he acted friendly enough. The white and steel-colored mech shrugged, the cannon barrels on his back moving upwards along with his shoulders.

"All part of life, kid." Auto grinned.

"Do me a favor and don't call me that," Crosshairs said, passing Auto as he exited the workshop to palm Auto's face.

"Why don't you prove it?" Auto swatted Crosshairs's servo out of his face.

Something about Auto's devilish grin told Crosshairs that he was up to no good, but he still took the bait. "How?" he asked cautiously.

"Come with me tonight, and you'll see, hon hon hon," Autocannon purred. He rubbed his palms together deviously and laughed maniacally. Crosshairs could just shake his head and follow his coworker, pretending not to know him as he passed other mechs on the street.

They headed towards downtown Kalis, the shadier part of town, and Crosshairs unwittingly stuck closer to Auto when he started seeing more mechs in the alleys and backstreets staring at them. The two mechs' cleanliness, their shine, the doubtfulness of their step cast a glaringly obvious sign that they did not belong there. Crosshairs had heard rumors about this area, and he'd been right to avoid it. The neighborhoods in downtown Kalis were much different from those in the north. Here, mechs made sure to lock their windows shut, barring them, even. Mechs like him easily wind up just another body lying in the street for the wrong move, and no one would care.

They finally arrived at a two-story club, which had an iridescent sign hovering next to it reading in Cybertronian, " _Salty Spittoon_." Crosshairs raised a brow plate, wondering why a club would need a second story. The multicolored strobe lights flashed in time with dance music, music meant specifically meant for _sleazy_ clubs. Crosshairs's spark sank as he realized this all too late, for Auto already scooted him inside. The music deafened anyone within earshot, and one could practically smell the dirty things that went on in there. Crosshairs gave a disgusted look at Auto, who just laughed and innocently asked, "What?"

"What the hell, Auto? Thanks, but no thanks." Crosshairs started to leave, but Auto barred his way.

"Aw, c'mon. Crosshairs, don't defecate on the party. Just try it out. There are plenty of hot mechs around here. I'll even pay for yours. You'll love it! If you want any of 'em to lick your pistons, just let me know." Auto waggled a brow ridge at Crosshairs as he groaned in disgust.

"Frag you, Auto."

"Oh, hey, babe!" Auto ignored him and flagged down a waiter, a particularly attractive mech with great curves and thick thighs, Crosshairs had to admit. "Drift, why don't you give my friend here a lap dance, and if you're convincing enough to get him to sleep with you, I'll pay you extra." At the mention of this, Crosshairs realized what the second floor was for, his tanks churning at the thought. Auto handed Drift some Shanix and slapped Drift's aft. "That one's free," he whispered loudly before seating a fussy Crosshairs and running off for his own fun. "Hey, ladies! Auto's back for some fun time!" Auto's voice receded as a few fembots he supposedly knew surrounded him flirtatiously.

Drift quickly slid Auto's money into subspace before straddling Crosshairs's lap. It hadn't been two nano-kliks before Crosshairs commanded, "Stop." Drift stiffened, unsure what Crosshairs meant. He looked at the green mech with confusion. "Get off," Crosshairs snapped.

Drift slid off obediently onto the couch next to Crosshairs. He sat silently, looking at the floor and glancing at Crosshairs periodically. Finally, he spoke, "I'm sorry, sir. If you want someone else, I can get someone who's open..."

"No, s'fine," Crosshairs said tersely, grabbing a drink off of a side table. He smelled it first before taking a swig, then offered it to Drift, who politely sipped it before gagging. Crosshairs smirked. "Too strong?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Drift admitted, setting the drink down without looking back up at Crosshairs. After a pause, he apologized, "I'm sorry if it was _that_ bad. I'll go reimburse your friend." Crosshairs grabbed Drift's arm as he tried to stand, somewhat startling him. Crosshairs immediately released Drift when he saw Drift's expression of not surprise, but fear.

Drift was _afraid_ of him.

This revelation caused Crosshairs to stutter an apology and explained, "S'not you, s'him. And he's _not_ my friend." Crosshairs crossed his arms over his chest. "However... that gives me an idea. Drift, your room's upstairs, ain't it?"

Drift nodded, swallowing subtly in anticipation of what Crosshairs would ask for next. However, Crosshairs's next question took him by surprise. "Do you know how ta change that timepiece up there?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Needless to say, after Drift had hurriedly fast-forwarded the time by twenty kliks, the wait in Drift's room was outright awkward. Crosshairs could hear the groans of other clients interfacing with buymechs in adjacent rooms, but Drift must have gotten used to it, for he simply sat looking straight ahead at the timepiece in his room, tapping a finger against a thick black thigh as he waited. Crosshairs took this moment to thoroughly look over the mech.

Drift had been through more than what he let on. A tiredness lingered in his optics, a despairing inevitability tingeing his faceplates with sadness. To Crosshairs's chagrin, careless scrapes marred the insides of Drift's thigh plating near his pelvic span, likely from his especially rough clients. _What does a good-lookin' mech have ta do ta deserve this?_ Crosshairs questioned.

"How long have you been here?" Crosshairs asked.

"About ten stellar cycles."

"That's an awful long time."

"I didn't have much of a choice. It's where the money's good."'

"Ya don't mean ta tell me that ya like it here?"

Drift shook his head. "Like I said, I don't have much of a choice."

"Oh." They both sat in awkward silence for a few more kliks, then Crosshairs decided that it was high time the both of them left. "Alright, let's go." Drift silently followed Crosshairs as he made his way to find Autocannon. The green mech took note of the customers at the club hooting and making inappropriate gestures at Drift, but he didn't say anything. "Ah, Autocannon, my mech. You were right, that was great! I think I'll be heading home with him, now."

"Aw, really? Is it that time, already? I told you you'd love it, Crosshairs! Oh, right! I have to pay for...for..."

"Drift."

"Yeah! Drift. Paying for Drift."

As Autocannon shelled out some Shanix, Crosshairs cleared his vocalizer conspicuously. "I think it was worth a little more than that," he hinted innocently. He glanced at Drift, who tried smothering a smile. "A little more," Crosshairs insisted after Auto had added a sizeable amount to Drift's cut. The white mech blew air out of his intake, raising his brow plates without saying anything, eventually handing over a large wad of Shanix. "Alright, thanks, buddy." Crosshairs slapped Auto's arm before seeing Drift out.

"You owe me big time!" Auto called out, but Crosshairs waved him away.

Once they had exited, Drift smiled and laughed for the first time that night. "I have to admit, that was pure genius." He quickly slipped the money into a subspace pocket, not wanting to be robbed immediately after payment. "Sir, may I ask what your name is?"

Crosshairs facepalmed himself for forgetting. "Sorry. I'm Crosshairs. Weapons engineer." He extended a servo.

Drift took it in both of his hands, saying, "Crosshairs, I am very gracious of what you did for me tonight. Thank you. It made my week." The blue and black mech flashed a smile.

"Hey, don't mention it." Crosshairs shifted, forming the words he had worked on while he sat in Drift's room. "How much do ya have ta pay to stay here?"

"500 per deca-cylce," Drift answered. He'd stopped acting fidgety and started looking Crosshairs in the eye, though still with a wary caution. "Why do you ask?"

"Tell ya what: how about you stay at my place? It's 800 per deca-cycle for one mech, but 400 for each of us. There's plenty of room, and you can leave this rotten dump for a much safer neighborhood. I also know this guy who's taking new hires near where I work. And if that doesn't work, what we just scammed outta Auto back there should be enough for a couple'a deca-cycles for you get on your feet. Whaddya say?"

Drift's gears shifted as he contemplated the offer. He inquired quietly, "How often... would you like me to pleasure you?"

Crosshairs automatically understood what Drift insinuated and insisted, "No, no, no. Nothing like that. I use the second bedroom for storage, so I'll just move my stuff out and give you whatever space you need. You'll have your own room, and we won't be interfacing, or anything of the sort."

Drift nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Crosshairs. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Don't hafta." The green mech grinned, clapping Drift on the shoulder before the black and blue mech went to retrieve his meager belongings and bid farewell to his coworkers. As the two of them walked uptown, Crosshairs felt he could breathe easily, again. He peered in Drift's direction. It hadn't occurred to him until then that Drift probably had not journeyed far from downtown. A smile creeped onto his face plates as he viewed Drift looking about in wonder, taking in the new sights, which were completely different from the sordidly depressing spectacles downtown. At this hour, couples laughed without fear. The law enforcement was decent. The two mechs couldn't smell a hint of the decaying energon that they had just left a few miles south. Lights seemed to sparkle brighter, street lights illuminating empty driveways, rather than alleys filled with glitch mice, thugs, and beggars missing limbs.

When Drift caught Crosshairs's gaze, he beamed back as brightly as the lights surrounding them. Crosshairs looked away apologetically, trying to burn the image of Drift's smile into his memory. That smile... was nice. It was a very nice smile...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: http://youtu.be/-VruEefJAHI


	2. Losing Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift struggles to leave ALL aspects of his former life behind, turning to Crosshairs for comfort.

" _I hear you buzzing, a fly on the wall_  
 _In through the window and up through the hall_  
 _Flying in circles just trying to land_  
 _I see you hurting I do what I can_ "

~"In Circles," by Darren Korb, Ashley Barrett

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drift used the key card to unlock the door to his and Crosshairs's apartment, quietly closing it once he stepped inside. Drift spotted the closed door to Crosshairs's room, indicating that he worked on something from the weapons shop and should not be bothered. Drift took the time to intake a long gulp of air, smelling the remnants of newly-oiled metal and an electric scent that Drift could only describe as something distinctly Crosshairs. He didn't mind the smell; in fact, it made him feel welcome and safe, certainly better than the stench at the Salty Spittoon. The mere mention of that place made Drift feel so dirty, unworthy, and unwanted.

An unwarranted shock of pain in Drift's processor cut his recollections short, making him lightheaded enough to lose feeling in his peds. He shuffled towards a counter and gripped its edge to steady himself, trying not to make too much noise in his efforts to regain control, yet his armatures started to shake, despite his efforts. He hurried to his room and closed the door. A shaky hand groped for an unmarked black box underneath his berth. Crosshairs had seen it while Drift had carried his belongings to the apartment but luckily had not inquired about it.

Finally, Drift grasped the box, ripping off the lid for the contents inside. Tremulous digits succeeded in closing around the circumference of a syringe after a few nano-kliks of fumbling. Circuit boosters: the reason Drift had needed more and more money, driving him to prostitution in order to obtain it. He had told himself he would quit after he moved in with Crosshairs, but it had been a deca-cycle since then, and the shocks of withdrawal precluded Drift's wish to end his addiction.

 _Just one more dose, then I'll stop._ Oh, Primus. If he had a Shanix for every time he told himself that, he could buy a whole warehouse of circuit boosters. He could buy another for every time he thought, _Just one dose, and all the pain and memories will go away._ The current from the booster, laced with a hyperactivity code, would send the energon in his fuel lines racing, his spark soaring. It would pull him into a world of bliss, away from those dirty feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing.

Drift attempted to steady his hand as he prepared to inject the electric solvent into his arm, but the sound of his door opening made him drop the syringe. "Scrap!" he cursed. Drift turned to see who had interrupted him, though he didn't need to. That homey smell of electricity gave it away. "Can't you slagging knock?" Drift yelled.

"Are you friggin' doing _circuit boosters_? Are you insane?" Crosshairs seethed.

"No, and it's none of your damned business what I do!"

"Yeah, it's my business. If the landlord finds out, we'll _both_ be kicked to the curb!" Crosshairs lunged for Drift and dragged him off before he could reach for the syringe. The green bot hauled him to the other side of the apartment room screaming. Crosshairs went to his room, deposited Drift, and quickly closed the door, placing a heavy object in front of it so Drift couldn't escape.

"What the slag are you doing?" Drift yelled, banging the door with his fist.

Even through the door, Drift could hear Crosshairs's gruff voice say, "Something you'll thank me for, later." Drift cursed, pushing himself off of Crosshairs's door to prepare for when it opened. When it did, he tackled Crosshairs to the ground, both of them rolling on the floor with Drift landing on his back underneath Crosshairs.

"Who in the Pit do you think you are? I'm a grown mech! I can do whatever I want!" Drift said, thrusting the heel of his palm into Crosshairs's chin. Crosshairs's head snapped back, but he recovered to deliver a punch to Drift's cheek plate. Drift grabbed Crosshairs's helm and head-butted, taking advantage of the sting from the impact of his helm finials to roll over and pin the green mech's arms. However, Crosshairs kneed Drift in the abdomen, loosening his grip so Crosshairs could roll and gain the upper hand. He soon had Drift lying on his front, hands detained behind his back. Drift attempted to squirm, but firm hands held him in place. Crosshairs straddled Drift's aft, adding insult to injury as Drift's cooling fans kicked in out of mortification. Crosshairs's also activated due to the exertion of fighting Drift.

Crosshairs leaned forward, and Drift tried not to think of how the surface of Crosshairs's immaculate pelvic span scraped the curve of his aft. Crosshairs lowered his voice to a level, serious tone. "There're two ways this can go, Drift. One: you can commit ta quittin', and I'll help ya. Two: you keep getting circuit boosters and I'll have nothing to do with ya. I'll kick ya out, and you'll go back ta livin' like a deadbeat with a deadbeat job and a deadbeat future. Your choice."

Drift groaned. Despite the hazy feeling in his processor caused by the insatiable desire for circuit boosters, he knew which choice would get him the furthest. His frame relaxed, surrendering its previous cause... in the meantime. "You're right. Circuit boosters won't put me anywhere good." He sighed, letting his head droop to the side. "I _really_ need your help, though. Like, a lot... I-I'm sorry."

Crosshairs stood and stepped off of Drift. "Ah, don't worry 'bout it. More than willing to help a friend." He extended a servo with a smirk. Drift took the offered hand in his own, pulling himself up, only to lose feeling in his peds, again. Luckily, Crosshairs caught him before he fell, though the green mech couldn't help but laugh at his roommate.

Drift smiled a little. "Heh, sorry. I forgot that whenever I'm like this, I kinda faint when I stand up too quickly." Crosshairs elected to carry Drift to his room, for Drift's room was further away. However, Crosshairs unceremoniously plopped his cargo on his berth. Drift groaned, pressing a palm to his forehead to try to settle the throbbing in his head. "Crosshairs, that wasn't good. Please don't do that again."

Crosshairs stuttered an apology, standing near the berth awkwardly after Drift closed his optics. "I'll, uh... I'll go get you something to drink." He shuffled to the kitchen to grab a cup, not having turned the kitchen faucet on before hearing Drift call his name. It was almost cute in the way Crosshairs rushed over to Drift's side in so little time.

Drift had curled into a ball, looking at Crosshairs with heavy-lidded optics. "I'm sorry, Crosshairs, but..." Drift stopped to press his helm with his servos, releasing a pained groan.

"What can I do?" Crosshairs tried to sound less concerned than he actually was but got the feeling that he failed in this endeavor. However, Drift was too pained to notice.

"Can I- Could you just hold me? I'm sorry, it's kind of a ridiculous-" Crosshairs quickly silenced his companion by crawling onto the berth and lying in front of Drift, encasing him gently in an embrace. Drift leaned his head against Crosshairs's chest plates, taking in the galvanized scent and relaxing instantly in the mech's warmth. He closed his optics, trying to ignore the intense ache in his processor and the churning in his fuel tanks.

"Quit apologizin'. S'fine, 'long as it makes ya feel better." Before Drift could respond, a ravaging pain pierced into his brain module, his visuals sweeping into blank static. Drift clutched at the mech holding him, intakes hitching as every circuit in his body felt ablaze with fire. In his blind agony, Drift felt everything seizing up, each limb hurting, no matter what he did. The lights in his optics shuttered out of focus, leaving Drift to fall into the misery that his body wrought, screaming for the stimulation of circuit boosters.

Drift begged, "Crosshairs, can you just give me one? Just one. That's all I need-"

"I incinerated it all," Crosshairs interrupted.

"Please, _please_ just get me one. I _need_ it. Please, Crosshairs! I'll do whatever you want. Anything!"

"No, you don't need it," Crosshairs asserted firmly. Drift's shoulders drooped in defeat, but Crosshairs stroked the side of Drift's face and traced the edges of the black mech's helm finials in consolation.

"Can we get sour energon sorbet after this?" Drift asked out-of-the-blue.

Crosshairs paused, caught off-guard by this strangely random request. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not?"

"Don't stop." Drift regained his sight long enough to peek at Crosshairs's face. The puzzled expression prompted Drift to explain, "Keep doing that... with your fingers."

"What's tha magic word?" Crosshairs teased.

"Shut the frag up and just do it," Drift muttered moodily. Crosshairs grinned and resumed rubbing Drift's helm finials between his thumb and forefinger, Drift's ragged intakes becoming more steady as he pursued that soothing touch to distract himself from the gripping pains of withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: http://youtu.be/XSGxYnnwcLg


	3. Optimizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep reminding Drift of his past, no matter how much he wants to push it away. Will he move on in due time?

" _You always go_  
 _Walking on coals_  
 _Walk away slow_  
 _Feel the fire_  
 _Light your way to me_  
 _My siren song for you_  
  
 _I see the spine of the world_  
 _Sparkle and shine like the inside_  
 _I see the spine of the world_  
 _I know its mine twisted and tied_  
 _I see the spine_ "

~"The Spine," by Darren Korb, Ashley Barrett

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You said it would be ready by now! What is wrong with you mechs!?" one of Autocannon's customers screeched.

"Sir, I left you a message yesterday telling you that Autocannon has left me to cover his shift, so I would probably be late in finishing your order," Crosshairs tried explaining. Ever since he took Drift home, Autocannon had been acting like a self-entitled little prick, often leaving early or calling in sick when he obviously wasn't. Crosshairs just about had it with that idiotic spark plug, weapons genius or not. The livid customers who came guns-a-blazing (literally, like, with blue fire) never helped with Crosshairs's mood. The only thing that perked him up was...

The familiar shape of helm finials quietly entered the workshop, the black and blue mech who owned them smiling at him.

His very presence made Crosshairs relax.

"Well?" the mech in front of him snapped. Crosshairs looked back at Autocannon's customer, almost alarmed that he was still there.

"I'm sorry?" Damn it. The mere sight of Drift had distracted him.

"When will it be ready?" the mech asked with barely-contained aggression.

"Within two light cycles." The mech huffed at the response and barreled out of the shop, shoulder-checking Drift on his way out.

"Rough day, huh?" Drift asked.

"Rough _two deca-cycles_. Auto's been taking off randomly with no explanation."

"Well, at least our shifts ended at about the same time, today." Crosshairs grunted an acknowledgement. Drift had found a job not at the place Crosshairs had pointed out but at an aeronautics research lab a few blocks further south. The fact that Drift had done so well on the get-go made Crosshairs somewhat jealous. "Was there anything you wanted to do tonight?" Drift asked pleasantly, his optimism contagious. Crosshairs already began to feel a bit more upbeat.

"I was thinkin' about hittin' the bar tonight. It's during the work cycle, so it won't be so loud."

"Sounds like a plan." The two of them had already exited the gun shop, Crosshairs locking up before they headed out. Their favorite bar wasn't the nearest, but _the view_ far overshadowed that inconvenience. Drift leaped and transformed into a Cybertronian transport helicopter, allowing Crosshairs to sit in the carrying compartment before buzzing off. Normally, guests at the bar they frequented needed to take the elevator, but Drift and Crosshairs had agreed that only mechs without class took the elevator. The bartender certainly hadn't minded the drop-in the first time they made the effort.

Besides, Crosshairs never grew tired of the receding cityscape, multicolored lights shrinking into tiny blobs of light for miles around, varying winds brushing past and swinging the carriage gently as they soared above the city. Each gust of wind brought both familiar and unfamiliar smells from hawker stands and night markets. He'd have to take Drift one day to the market district, though trips to the bar became a highly-anticipated arrangement whenever their schedules coincided. It would be hard to surpass them.

"We're nearing the building," Drift announced. Crosshairs could see the looming skyscraper, a hotel shaped like a spiral, getting nearer. Crosshairs prepared to jump onto the platform while Drift decelerated. Oddly enough, against all sense of self-preservation, the green mech loved the feeling of free-fall. Whenever he leapt away from Drift, he felt his energon flow faster, fuel pump racing, spark tinged with an ethereal sensation. His fall ended too soon as he landed and rolled forward once to make room for Drift, who came soon afterwards, transforming back into his root mode. Crosshairs snuck a look at his friend transforming in the air: parts gracefully shifted to recognizable appendages, Drift's face coming into view before the last few parts clicked in place.

Optics locked onto Drift like his helicopter parts had locked into place during transformation. The stunt elicited a few whistles from the bar's patrons.

"Damn. Looks like the bar's fuller than I thought," Crosshairs cursed as he peered around.

"Don't worry. It's not too full." Drift waved the concern away. He found two empty adjacent chairs for both of them. They drank, chatted with each other, laughed, and listened to the latest news from the bartender. They both appreciated down time whenever it came, and Crosshairs enjoyed seeing Drift thoroughly inebriated. It led to... interesting results.

The night passed by like any other, until a particularly large purple mech entered the bar. When Drift cast an optic in his direction, any type of merriment disappeared from his face plates as he turned away so the large mech would not spot him. However, he did so too late, for purple metal came jaunting in Drift's direction. Crosshairs moved himself to the edge of his seat, hand hovering over a subspace compartment on his right thigh.

"Hey, I know you," the mech's deep voice thundered. "You're that pleasurebot from the Salty Spittoon. I haven't seen you around, these days. What, my Shanix not good enough for you? I'd be more than willing to pay you if you make up for lost time." The mech leaned in with a voracious grin. Only at the Salty Spittoon did Crosshairs ever see Drift look so small and belittled.

Drift finally turned to face the purple mech with an impassive expression. "I must inform you, Dodger, that I no longer perform those services, anymore. You will have to find someone else to appease your guilty pleasures."

"You were the most successful one at the Spittoon, don't you remember? My spike remembers. Why don't you remind it of why I paid so much for you, ya little piston-licker?" Dodger's pelvic span neared Drift's face, which shifted away once Dodger had come too close.

"Are you deaf, mech? He said he doesn't do that anymore!" Crosshairs barked. The bar quieted a bit before returning to its loud chatter, though it was more hushed than before.

Dodger faced Crosshairs with a scowl. "No, but I wish I _were_ deaf so I wouldn't have to hear you butting into something that's **none of your damned business**!" Dodger made a move to shove Crosshairs out of his seat, but the green mech moved so quickly that Dodger hadn't even lifted his servo before Crosshairs whipped an uzi out of his subspace. The large mech immediately lifted his servos in surrender. All motion in the bar stopped, almost like someone had pressed the "pause" button on them.

"Now, if ya apologize about the way ya talked ta my _friend_ , I won't shoot ya for today. Then, we'll be on our merry way." Crosshairs gestured with his other hand to Drift, who just stared at him in awe. "Go on," he said when Dodger stood there looking at him dumbly. The large mech stuttered out an apology, satisfying Crosshairs for the moment. Crosshairs directed his friend away from Dodger, and Drift transformed into helicopter mode. Crosshairs grabbed onto one of Drift's landing pads, gun still aimed at Dodger so he wouldn't try anything funny.

Once they neared ground level, Crosshairs holstered his gun and dropped to the ground. Drift followed suit, laughing out loud. "I can't believe you brought a gun to a bar!"

"I always bring one, just in case," Crosshairs responded, smiling. "Uh, why didn't you just fly us home?"

"Drinking and flying is a _bad_ thing to do, Crosshairs." Drift playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh yeah," Crosshairs said with embarrassment, then started walking towards their place.

"Anyways, thank you, Crosshairs. Again." Crosshairs shrugged, trying not to make it a big deal. Drift continued, "My suspicions are confirmed: you're a total badass!"

"Oh, for a second there, I thought you were about ta say 'complete moron!'" Crosshairs noted. "Oh, shi—" He stopped himself from tripping over uneven pavement just in time.

" _Now_ you're giving me second thoughts." They both laughed, joking all the way back to the apartment complex. Drift stopped Crosshairs before he inserted the metal key card into the door. "I'd like to thank you... for everything. You've done a lot, and I really can't tell you enough." Without thinking, Drift pulled Crosshairs into a kiss, which came as a surprise to him. As Drift pulled away, the shocked look on Crosshairs's face remained. The black and blue mech looked down. "Uh, sorry. I-I always wanted to do that, but I guess the Engex has gotten to my head. Sorr-MPH!"

Crosshairs locked lips with Drift; he didn't know what it was, but the intoxication might have made him more adventurous. Drift started testing with touches: a servo around the waist, closing the space between their bodies, another servo traveling up Crosshairs's neck cables. The green mech moaned appreciatively as he struggled to open the apartment door without looking.

Once he had managed (by no small miracle) to finally get it open, he barged through the door, lips still connected with Drift's, slamming it with equal gusto, thankful for the auto-lock function. Crosshairs lifted Drift, hurried over to his room, accidentally bumping Drift's finials against the door frame, and dropped the mech onto his bed, both of them laughing in the comfort of each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, there is one question I must ask: DO YOU WANT CROSSDRIFT SMUT?  
> If no one wants it, I won't write it, but if you do, a warning: I'm fairly new at smut writing.
> 
> Song: http://youtu.be/8keRZa7hAqM


	4. Verity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE SEX IN ONE DRUNKEN NIGHT. If you wanna skip the love-making, skip this AND the next chapter. ;) Hopefully it's as good as you hoped? ^^U Sorry it took so long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had listen to this over and over again while writing in order to "stay in the mood." It's a great song, but you get tired of it after a while. Hopefully you can listen and have it add to your experience. :/
> 
> "Old Friends" by Darren Korb  
> http://youtu.be/pfAuWjCXwnw

Drift offlined his optics momentarily, tears threatening to gather as he could hardly hold in his own laughter. Soft lip plates kissed their way down Drift's neck cables as a servo graced itself across his abdomen and around his waist. He should have been reminded of his days as a pleasurebot, but something about how that servo glided so affectionately over his thigh held the guilty memories at bay. Drift onlined his optics as a deep, low hum from Crosshairs resonated through the warm air between them. They were so close that Drift could feel Crosshairs's vocalizer vibrate.

Each of Drift's limbs flexed appreciatively as Crosshairs grazed a servo over them, though once Crosshairs neared Drift's pelvic span, the motion subsided. Crosshairs met Drift's gaze, both of them holding it in silence, not believing they had both wound up there.

"Do ya-" Crosshairs's voice faltered, but only momentarily. "Do ya want ta do this?" It seemed like such a silly question to Drift. No one had ever asked him that, before. It never occurred to him that he actually had a choice.

Drift nodded. "D-do you?" He realized with embarrassment how undesirable he was as an interface partner, compared to those with a cleaner, less complicated history. He suddenly became aware of all the scratches he'd accumulated after stellar cycles of interfacing with dirty, lustful mechs in downtown Kalis each night, evidence of how unclean and filthy he was.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want'cha," Crosshairs stated, catching Drift by surprise.

"You're saying that... that you want _me?_ " Drift couldn't help but maintain an incredulous tone. He shifted his gaze to the side. "But I'm not... I'm not good for you. You deserve better. If you want to 'face, I'm fine with that, but don't lie to me."

"I'm not lyin'. I'm tellin' ya, you're the worthiest person I've met. You're a survivor who never gives up. I've never seen someone with as much diligence as you. No matter what, ya always pushed forward. That's what I like about'cha, Drift." Drift covered his mouth, closing his optics as they squeezed bitter tears. No one had ever told him that, before. Crosshairs was truly a gift, a precious treasure, but he still held Drift as an equal after all he'd been through. While all he'd seen was filthy ugliness, Crosshairs had taken the time to look inside and discover a beautiful gem within.

Crosshairs gently removed Drift's servo and wiped the blue mech's tears away. "Drift, don't look back at the past and drag yerself down. Ya aren't what you were before; you're what ya've made yerself to be, right here, right now. Ya've already accomplished so much. Hell, I think ya even surpassed me. Sometimes, I even get a bit jealous." Crosshairs smiled, closing his optics and leaning his head to touch Drift's. "I really love the way ya are, Drift."

Drift pulled Crosshairs down into a messy kiss as both mechs offlined their optics, sliding servos over each other's frames fondly. Drift fingered Crosshairs's pelvic span as he opened his interface panel. Crosshairs slid his servo around Drift's thigh and found his valve, tracing the valve's lining with a reverent finger. Drift moaned and tensed his thighs in want as the finger rubbed a sensitive node near the entrance of his valve. Drift's mouth quivered as the finger slowly slid into his warm, moist valve.

"Mmmh, Crosshairs," Drift moaned while Crosshairs slipped a second finger into his valve. Drift pumped his hips up and down, begging for more. "Please, please..." Drift panted. Crosshairs slid his fingers deeper to stroke the line of nodes running along the sides. Drift lifted his arms around the other mech, feeling the strong shoulders, snaking fingers into the gaps of his armor to feel the cords and wires that ran underneath. Crosshairs shuddered as fingers slid across the creases, making their way down his spinal strut. He purred, curling to the warm touch as he connected mouths with Drift.

Drift moved his hips to get more stimulation from Crosshairs's fingers but had little luck, the feeling falling short of satisfying. He growled in annoyance, moving his fingers over to rub Crosshairs's panel. Luckily, the green mech took the hint, removing his fingers and looking at Drift once more. "You're sure, Drift? I won't push ya inta somethin' ya don't wanna do."

The blue mech looked at Crosshairs square in the optics. "Yes, Crosshairs. I've never been more certain."

"...Tell me if it's too much for ya," Crosshairs said gently.

Drift tightened his grip on the sleek green and black metal. "I-I just want to know what it's like to 'face someone who likes me as much as I like him." Crosshairs smiled and reached a servo behind Drift's helm, then leaned down for a kiss.

Crosshairs released Drift for a moment to explain, "S'not 'facing, you're talking about. S'called makin' love." Drift stared at the mech above him for a moment, letting the words sink in. _Making love._ Yes, that seemed like a suitable expression. As Drift looked into Crosshairs's intense optics, he could feel the mech's affection match his own. No one else had loved Drift like Crosshairs had, and Drift was convinced no one else would.

Drift loosened his hands and ghosted the tips of his fingers up and down Crosshairs's back, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr from the green mech. The couple's servos kept exploring each other, feeling the curves of each piece of metal. Crosshairs extended his interface spike, Drift lightly tracing its circumference before sliding a palm down its long length. Crosshairs's cooling fans whirred loudly, the heat overwhelming, yet stopping himself required more power than he could muster. Drift's inviting touches goaded him on, legs spreading to allow Crosshairs better access.

Crosshairs inserted the tip of his spike into Drift's warm valve before slowly sliding his whole length in. Drift held Crosshairs tighter as the green mech rocked rhythmically. "Oh, Crosshairs," he gasped as Crosshairs's spike sent a ripple of sensation flowing through him, the spike sending impulses of pleasure as it hit every node just right. Everything about Crosshairs proved loving, completely devoid of force.

"Mmm, Drift," Crosshairs moaned, his voice seeming to caress his partner's name as he increased in speed. Drift's valve clamped on his spike each time he pulled out, the mech below gasping and calling his name with each thrust. Drift's mewls, his sounds, his touches: they all turned Crosshairs on, spun his cooling fans out of control whenever he closed his optics and let the remaining senses engulf him.

Drift began screaming, screaming _his_ name. There would be no other sound like this, Crosshairs realized, burrowing his face into Drift's neck. He clenched his dentae as he slammed harder and harder into Drift's valve, the screams getting higher in pitch as he hammered his spike into Drift's warm, dripping valve. Crosshairs screamed, " **Drift**!" and overloaded into Drift's valve as it squeezed around his spike, milking it as he thrust a few last times before he collapsed on top of the heaving blue mech's chest.

Crosshairs looked into Drift's exhilarated face. A delighted grin lit up Drift's face plates like a gleaming star. Crosshairs couldn't help but smile back. He closed his optics and nuzzled into Drift's neck lovingly, feeling a tender hand fold over his back and sensually trace the lining on his spinal strut. Both of them huffed in exhaustion, unable to say anything, but completely enraptured by each other's presence.

At some point, they drifted off to recharge, thankful for the warmth that the other provided, frames in each other's arms as optics slid closed into oblivion, and ventilation patterns slowed to a lull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Crosshairs," Drift tested, not meaning to awaken his partner but to simply see whether he was offline at the moment. After a moment of silence, Drift continued, "I'm glad you pulled me out of the club. I... I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to do that anymore because... because I want to stay with you." Drift looked down at his new berthmate resting on top of him. Crosshairs's face looked so placid, its usual smirk thrown into the abyss of recharge. Drift sighed. "It- it may be a bit early for this, but I think that everything will grow into something so much greater. I—"

Crosshairs's laughter interrupted Drift's monologue, to his horror. "You were supposed to be recharging!" Drift hissed.

Despite Drift's frown, Crosshairs continued chuckling. "You're ridiculously sweet, ya know that?"

"I'm... _What_ is that supposed to mean?!" Drift demanded, heat rising into his cheek plates in both indignation and embarrassment.

"Ah, don't get your plating in a bunch. I just love the way ya are."

Drift pouted as Crosshairs grinned smugly at him. He pushed the green mech off of him suddenly, causing him to clumsily flop onto the floor. "Hey! What're ya doin'?"

Drift got off the berth and made his way to the kitchenette, calling back, "Getting a drink." He grabbed a small metal cup from a cupboard and filled it with energon. "Do you want anything?" he asked before taking a swig of medium-grade. He heard metal peds clack against the flooring behind him before feeling servos snake around his abdomen.

Crosshairs alighted his chin on Drift's right shoulder, cooing, "I love the way ya walk, too. Your aft sways back and forth, like a pendulum." He squeezed said aft before rubbing the curve of the metal. "I'll tell ya what would hit the spot: how does round two sound?" Crosshairs whispered into Drift's audial.

Drift paused in puzzlement. Round two? There was such a thing? What happened in round two? Was this normal for couples? How did he...

_Oh. Oh, Primus._

Drift's ventilation turned ragged as Crosshairs placed wet kisses along the back of his neck. Crosshairs felt around the edges of Drift's helicopter blades, the especially sensitive parts of Drift's anatomy. The mech pressed into Crosshairs's touch, moaning as Crosshairs fingered his rotor tenderly. "Ya like that, don'tcha? Ya must not get anything like this during the day, huh?"

Drift relaxed as servos trailed up and down his blades. He placed his servos on the counter in front of him and leaned his weight forward. The mech behind him continued running a servo up and down Drift's blades while using his other servo to gently stroke the tip of one of Drift's helm finials. Drift tilted his head into the tender touch appreciatively. As Crosshairs pressed himself against Drift, he bowed his head to kiss the nape of Drift's neck, suckling at the cool, smooth wires before digging his glossa between transformation seams. The green mech grunted when Drift ground against the front of his pelvic plating.

"Are you sure you're ready for round two?" Drift teased.

Crosshairs released Drift's blades and finials to grasp Drift's hips. He retracted his glossa to answer, "If I wasn't earlier, I am now, mate," accentuating the last word with a laugh.

"Well, go ahead and fill me like you want to, _mate_ ," Drift rejoined with a devilish grin, opening his interface port invitingly.

"Well, with an invitation like that, how could I say no?" Crosshairs extended his hard spike and eased his way into Drift, the latter moaning in lust. In spite of his heightening desire, Crosshairs still took Drift into consideration, only thrusting slowly in fear of hurting him. Though he acted rugged, he was no brute; he would stop the minute Drift felt displeasure.

However, he would not need to; Drift felt far from disgruntled. He encouraged, "More! Yes, Crosshairs! Harder, please! Oh, _yes_!" The mech huffed and gasped in rapture as Crosshairs thrust into him, lubricant dripping from Drift's valve. Drift gripped the countertop with shaky servos as Crosshairs pounded him over and over, spinning his crankshaft and making his pistons pump overtime. The taller green mech made him run so hot, his cooling fans spinning desperately to keep up and coolant flowing as quickly as it could.

Drift edged closer and closer to overload as Crosshairs slammed into him towards climax, spike exciting each node within his valve. At last, Drift overloaded when Crosshairs finished into his valve. Drift's arms finally gave way as he sank his helm down to rest on the edge of the counter in exhaustion. Crosshairs leaned against Drift's back, panting and lightly tracing the detailing on Drift's chassis.

"Ya liked that, sweetspark?" Crosshairs purred, nipping the side of Drift's neck. The mech under him shifted and grunted an affirmative before reaching to take a sip from his nearby glass of energon. "You pick _now_ ta do that? Ya can't just wait till I've moved offa ya?"

"I don't tell you how to live _your_ life," Drift muttered playfully, loud enough for Crosshairs to hear. The taller mech straightened his back and moved away from Drift. He stood there a moment, unsure what to do next as Drift turned and leaned his back against the counter. He stretched experimentally, popping a few joints in his spinal strut and sighing.

"Well, I'm headin' off ta recharge. Guess I'll... see ya." Drift raised his cup in response before taking another sip and silently following his lover back to his berthroom. He plopped onto the berth in front of Crosshairs and inched closer so their chestplates touched. Crosshairs merely peeked a single optic open before closing it, again. Without opening his optics, Crosshairs reached an arm over and draped it over Drift, who sighed heavily and planted a light kiss on Crosshairs's nose. Crosshairs couldn't help but smile as weariness overtook him and the blue mech in his arms.


	5. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More love-making. Skip if you're not into it.
> 
> Drift decides that Crosshairs is the one. >

Crosshairs awoke first at the break of morning light, feeling a mild headache from the previous night's antics. He blinked to clear his bleary vision, turning to the blurry blue figure in the berth next to him. As his world came into focus he saw Drift's sprawled frame laying prone, both servos clutching a pillow. The covers had been pulled down just below Drift's aft, just so the sunlight trickling into the room reflected off of its smooth curves. However, Drift looked so peaceful while asleep, so Crosshairs didn't dare wake him.

The green mech quietly stood and stretched, making his way to the window gazed upon the streets below the apartment. A few early risers strolled about, looking at the sky, which ran a range of hues from orange to magenta, while the morning shift workers drove or flew hurriedly to their workplaces in their alt modes.

All was as it always had been, which struck Crosshairs as odd, after the wild night of interfacing. He felt like there should have been a giant sign reading, " **I fragged my roommate** ," right above the apartment window, yet life on Cybertron moved about as normal. The very thought of the night before made Crosshairs's grip tighten on the windowsill.

Yes, it had been hot... and amazing. It had been so full of love. He also had been drunk, though he still recalled each detail as if it had been magnified: the curves of Drift's waist, the perfection of his spinal strut, his nimble flexibility, and how Crosshairs had simply banged him with reckless abandon. They were both intoxicated. Had he taken advantage of Drift? No one had pursued him as a love interest in the past. What if Drift had interfaced with him because he felt somehow obligated? Oh, Primus. Had he done this so completely wrong?

Wet lips intruded on his thoughts as they pressed onto his back. A cold sensation sent shivers through him as he felt Drift behind him intake through his vents. Drift ventilated slowly, savoring the scent as Drift slid his arms around Crosshairs's waist and up his abdomen.

"You're awake," Crosshairs observed none too intelligently. Way to go, Captain Obvious. His thoughts preoccupied him from the otherwise pleasant feeling of Drift on his body. Drift had to please his clients for ten stellar cycles, maybe even longer. Was it all just an act to repay a debt? The notion made Crosshairs cringe and shrink from Drift's touches.

The smaller mech immediately noticed his reaction and worriedly asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry that I took advantage of you last night. We were drunk, and I abused you-"

Drift briskly turned Crosshairs around to face him, an intense look on his face plates that stopped Crosshairs short. Even with the deathly expression, Drift's face radiated with the orange sun's glow, making him seem ethereal. The shorter mech held Crosshairs by the shoulders, looking up into his face. "Don't you dare say that. I... I know what abuse is." Drift's grip grew tighter as a haze clouded his optics, as if forcing him to look back onto those unpleasant memories. He continued, even though the haze refused to depart. "I know what it's like to be used and thrown away, to feel like garbage and know for a fact that I _am_ garbage. It's like many servos clawing at you, never letting you escape, violating you regardless of your actions." Drift gulped and looked down, tears gathering under lidded optics. He grit his dentae, compelling himself to continue, albeit with a shaky vocalizer. "But that's not what I felt last night. You made me feel warmth and comfort. I've never known what it's like to be desirable, but Primus can strike me blind if that wasn't it. For the first time, you made me feel loved, and I love you for that. Do you understand? You're the best thing that's ever happened in my life, probably the first good thing I've stumbled upon. You were the first one who made me believe I was valuable, so don't you ever-"

Crosshairs leaned down close and touched his helm on Drift's finials, nose to nose. He took a long intake of air, realizing that he had been holding his breath the whole time. He chuckled lightly before speaking, "Were ya _really_ so drunk last night that'cha forgot about me tellin' ya that ya aren't what'cha used ta be?" He vented, lifting his servos to cradle Drift's golden face. "I just didn't want'cha ta feel those feelings of abuse with me. I don't ever want'cha ta feel like I'm the one who's abusing you, like those ya've met in the past." He paused to wipe a stray tear that trickled down golden face plates. "And what I said's the truth; you _are_ amazing, special, and valuable. I want'cha ta do me a favor and never think otherwise. If anyone tells ya I'm wrong, I'll kick their aft." Crosshairs brightened when Drift rewarded him with a chuckle. "I love ya, Drift, 'cos _you're_ the most amazing person ta come inta my life."

Drift suddenly pulled Crosshairs down in a kiss, surprising him, though he dared not pull away. He leaned in, entangling green and black limbs with dark blue ones. Reverent fingers shakily touched the back of his helm while their bodies meshed together, trying to become one, an impossible dance still performed, nonetheless. Crosshairs pressed his palms onto Drift's abdomen, pushing him towards his berth. Drift, realizing his berthmate's intention, backed into the berth, allowing Crosshairs to lower his upper body onto the padded surface so they didn't break contact.

As he lay on the berth with Crosshairs hovering overhead, Drift opened his chestplates, revealing a glowing spark, corona tinged whitish-blue with an electric blue core. Crosshairs paused, knowing full well the meaning of Drift's gesture.

Spark bonding: an act which symbolized a couple's true devotion to each other, meaning they were willing to spend the rest of their lives together.

"Drift, we've only been together for a night. Are you absolutely sure?" Crosshairs questioned.

With unwavering resolve, Drift replied, "Forever." The green mech paused once more, knowing that Drift was no fool to make rash assumptions. He trusted his friend's judgment not only for his own decisions but also for Crosshairs's as well. He never invested his trust in anyone else before, and this certainly proved a first. Underneath his chest plating, his spark ached in proximity to Drift's, telling him to heed its call.

"Forever," he agreed. Slowly, tantalizingly, Crosshairs slid the plates on his chest back to reveal his own spark. It buzzed readily, shining aquamarine and celadon, shifting between colors constantly, forever inconsistent. Upon exposure, the sparks expanded, light filling the whole room and blotting out all traces of the Cybertronian sun's color. Tendrils of soft light expanded from both of their sparks, entangling themselves in each other. Energy coursed through them as they locked lips, the sparks pulsing and releasing brighter and brighter light with each beat.

Drift's fingers gripped at nothing, yet still reached for something to grasp. He moaned, snapping back his interface port cover. "Frag me," he whispered to the mech on top of him.

"How 'bout the other way?" Crosshairs murmured, circling a finger over the cover which held back Drift's spike. "Hasn't gotten any loving, if I recall correctly."

Drift's optics widened, for he had forgotten that option long ago. His smile curled on golden face plates as Drift snapped his cover back so his spike could extend its full length. Crosshairs opened his port cover and slid down on Drift's spike, enjoying the feel of it inside him. He leaned down so their sparks could be closer, which rewarded him with a galvanizing feeling coursing through him, sending his processor spinning. He almost forgot to start riding. Almost. Upon his own body's accord, he tilted his hips up, feeling that spike slide through his tight valve. He hadn't done this in a long time, and it felt so good.

Keeping a steady tempo proved difficult with the supernova between their chestplates shocking the living daylights out of both of them, but they still managed, Drift lifting his hips as Crosshairs descended each time. Crosshairs clenched and unclenched his thighs and moaned Drift's name, his lover's spike rubbing against all the right valve nodes. Each motion added to the heightening electric sensation from their sparks bonding and synchronizing pulses. In some faraway distance, Drift cried out in ecstasy while Crosshairs moaned in his own state of euphoria. The pulses from their sparks became more insistent and powerful, driving them both quickly to overload, the both of them screaming in utter rapture as a final flash blinded them, a moment of white calm as they gripped each other, waiting for the light to wane.

In what seemed like forever, their eyesight cleared. Both of them stared at each other as chestplates automatically closed, steam releasing fervently from their frames. Drift broke the silence with a sudden, passionate kiss, glossa lapping at the sweet inside of Crosshairs's mouth. Oral fluids pattered onto Drift's chest, but he paid no heed. He hummed as Crosshairs delicately lifted off of his spike, transfluid and lubricant leaking from that dripping valve. Crosshairs took this moment to take a breath and plop onto his side. Drift scooted ever closer to his companion with a great smile.

They wrapped arms around each other and resumed their zealous kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another song, which I had to listen to FOR THE FEELS.
> 
> "Waiting Between Worlds" by Zack Hemsey  
> http://youtu.be/cSxuk5jH1YI


	6. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift and Crosshairs's first date!!! Hope it goes well! >v

"Crosshairs! Crosshairs! Primus, where did that mech run off to?" Drift muttered to himself as he searched for his friend amidst a throng of Cybertronians milling about in the market sector of Kalis. The general hum of mindless chatter and clanking of metal filled the atmosphere, where the sky turned from light blue to pale orange in the late afternoon light.

Drift cursed his short height while searching for the green and black mech who had agreed to meet at his location, the unofficial border between the market and electronics district. Drift started tendering ideas of making his way to Crosshairs's workshop, already imagining the excuses his boyfriend would come up with.

"Ah, that was today? Darn. Sorry, Drift. I'm slag with dates," imaginary Crosshairs supposed apathetically. Drift huffed at the thought. As he continued to worry, Drift attempted to ignore the lingering looks he received from passerby. The sun's light glimmered radiantly off of Drift's possibly too shiny exterior. He regretted his zeal in waxing himself before this meet-up, which felt much like his and Crosshairs's first actual date, not as friends but as significant others. The stares certainly served to inch his consciousness closer and closer to leaving under the guise of looking for Crosshairs.

Just when Drift took his first steps towards the workshop, the mech in question appeared amidst the sea of swarming Cybertronian strangers, a spring in his step and a smile on his face plates. Drift tried to appear pleased to see him, though his servos shook and he felt like he might spontaneously burst into flames for being too shiny.

" ‘ello, Drift!" Crosshairs greeted. He slowed momentarily when he noticed Drift's new coat of wax, though only for a nanoclik before continuing forward. He smiled wider as his focus slid down and up Drift like an elevator. "Ya look great!" he exclaimed, clapping Drift on the shoulder and walking with him in his own preset direction.

 _That was all he had to say? Oh, thank Primus! That was all he had to say!_ A wave of relief washed over Drift as he expelled a breath he didn't notice he'd been holding. In an attempt to act casually, Drift asked, "Where are we going?" He certainly didn't have a clue, for Crosshairs seemed to take arbitrary directions, sometimes skipping certain blocks while turning at others. A copious amount of pedestrians flooded the streets every which way they went, precluding any travel via alt mode, which was fine with the couple: nothing spelled romantic like a slow, scenic stroll together.

"Somewhere I think ya'd like. S'a surprise," Crosshairs answered mischievously. Drift raised a brow ridge but didn't say anything, allowing his lover to guide him wherever he pleased, grateful just for the company. He enjoyed seeing the storefronts turn from shades of light orange to a deep burnt ochre, the Cybertronian sun setting in the horizon. The night hawkers began setting up their stands and shops as the day-shifters activated the security systems protecting their precious stores. In the market district, small-time businesses dominated the sector, as opposed to the large chain stores located downtown. Drift found the personable and eccentric shopkeepers charming and warm, not to mention somewhat entertaining.

As the couple walked, Crosshairs bought a variety of treats, depending on Drift's enthusiasm in declining each of them. He said he didn't want anything, just to be polite, yet Crosshairs knew well enough that a moment's hesitation meant a hopeful approval. Despite Drift's insistence that he pay for his own food, Crosshairs kept blocking Drift's way to each vendor, using his larger size to triumph over Drift's efforts without fail. It didn't take long for Drift to cast an unfavorable leer in Crosshairs's direction before the mech eventually stopped buying things for him, though Drift had to admit Crosshairs's behavior gave him more than a good impression.

"Crosshairs, this is more walking than I'm accustomed to. Could we sit down for a nanoclik?" Drift suggested, raising himself to the tips of this peds to work out the kinks in his ankle joints.

"What, already? Ya really need ta get out more, mate. That was just a warm-up," Crosshairs teased, eventually finding a spot for them to sit, the corner of a rather obscure drink shop where they could at least escape the cacophony of the crowded streets for a little while. Inside, only a few patrons entered at a time, most of them having the same idea as Crosshairs and Drift. The drink shop was fairly dark, save for a few pulsating iridescent lights on the ceiling and walls. A news vid played on a screen behind an elderly bartender.

"Seems like more and more uprisings have broken out since the latest scandal," the gentlemech mused as he observed Drift's attention to the screen. The creaky bartender smiled congenially when Drift jumped in his seat, realizing he'd been distracted. "Is there anything you'd like tonight, gentlemechs?"

"Never tried this place before... D'ya have any suggestions for me and my friend, here?" Crosshairs asked.

"The sour hyperfloat seems to be the rage these days. I must warn you: it gives you quite the kick of energy for a few groons, so you'll be up and running about for a long while."

"My friend here's gettin' cold peds. I think that'll be just the thing," Crosshairs quipped. The old mech laughed and proceeded to shuffle back to his area to prepare their drinks. In the meantime, Crosshairs and Drift turned their attention to the news vid's breaking story.

"In the latest update, the separatists have grown greatly in numbers ever since the conflict in the Senate, more Decepticons rushing in an outcry against the government." The screen divided into half, one showing the reporter, and the other showing a shaky video. "Here, we're showing edited footage from the Decepticon leader, Megatron, at the most recent Decepticon rally."

The recording expanded to fullscreen, portraying a large, raucous crowd huddled in front of a stage, where the well-known gladiator of Kaon stood with his trusted associate, Soundwave. "We shall stand for the heinous crimes of the Senate no longer, for the time of a government belonging to all is at hand!" An ominous roar of approval ejected from the crowd, interrupting Megatron in its fervor before quieting in full anticipation. "My fellow Decepticons, we must uproot the deception that runs amok in our present government before we can establish a republic built upon equality and true justice." Another roar, this time in indignation, arose at a heightened volume, taking even longer to still than the first. The speaker continued, "As soon as we overthrow this atrocious Senate, no more will Cybertronians be crawling in the streets, at each other's throats for sustenance. No more will mechs be impoverished or starving. No more will internal selfishness affect the lives of Cybertron. No more, I say! No more!" A final battle cry erupted with the tide of protestors before being cut off by the news reporter.

The vid captured both Crosshairs's and Drift's rapt attention. Crosshairs turned to Drift saying, "He's usin' everyone ta get what he wants: power. Good charisma makes for a good wall of support, but s'nothing but a sham." Drift shifted uncomfortably, nodding quietly, though Megatron's words had affected him differently. _A republic built upon equality and true justice._ What if, with Megatron's ideals, no one would ever have to go through what he did? What if there would be no need for prostitution, for crawling in the murk to survive?

Two large steins with bubbly fluid clacked gently on the table, interrupting Drift's train of thought as the bartender looked at both of them, seeming to know more than he let on. Crosshairs addressed him, "Oi, old timer. Ya've been around for quite some time. Whaddya make o' this?"

The elder smiled morosely, rubbing his rusting wrists tenderly. "I think that more mechs will have to choose a side: one for the old government and one for the new. I'm afraid things may get out of hand between these two factions before a full-blown war hits."

Though the notion of war seemed absurd to Drift, Crosshairs nodded appreciatively. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." The barkeep nodded before excusing himself and shuffling to another customer who just walked in.

Drift dragged the stein of sour hyperfloat towards him, tapping the side of the metallic cup with a finger as Crosshairs lifted his and took a long gulp of the liquid. "Crosshairs, you don't think that war would actually happen, do you?" Drift wondered aloud.

The green mech lowered his drink. "S'not impossible. S'the worst-case scenario, but I wouldn't count it out." Drift looked down into the circle of bubbles in his drink before taking a swig, himself. The sweet and sour medley filled him with a melancholy feeling akin to nostalgia, as if he were looking back upon happier times made impossible by the present.

"S'a good drink, old timer," Crosshairs told the elderly bartender after they finished their drinks. "Thanks." Crosshairs left more money than necessary to pay for the drinks, though the bartender didn't tell him so. He simply nodded for the compliment and took away the empty steins to wash. Drift took Crosshairs's servo in his and left the drink shop, hoping that he could find it again.

The two mechs spent the rest of the evening walking between stalls, which seemed to teem endlessly in the winding streets and alleys. They talked about nothing and everything, laughing at each other's antics while the time flew by, the sun setting and the sky growing dark.

Drift started worrying about the hour, saying, "Crosshairs, I've really loved the time we spent tonight. I thoroughly enjoyed your company, but the night's ending so quickly! I think we need to head back..."

Crosshairs checked his timepiece, responding, "Ah, looks like now's the right time. C'mon, Drift. I still haven't shown ya that special place!" He grinned before taking Drift by the hand to lead him further into territory unknown.

Puzzled, Drift responded, "I thought this was the place you wanted to show me!"

"Nah," Crosshairs said vaguely, continuing on his course into an alley with a dead end.

"Are we lost?" Drift asked warily. He certainly hoped they didn't just wind up in the middle of the market district's convoluted maze of streets without a clue as to how they would get back.

"No, c'mon!" Crosshairs gestured upwards before he started scaling the wall of a tall complex.

"Hey!" Drift yelped in surprise. "Wait for me!" He pulled himself onto the nearest windowsill, which jutted out enough for him to find a safe purchase on its surface.

"I'll _always_ wait for ya, mate," Crosshairs called down at him. "Don't know why _that's_ your biggest concern. If I were you, I'd worry about getting up."

As if to accentuate this point, Drift's servo slipped from its hold before he quickly found another hole to place it. He ventilated heavily, spark racing as Crosshairs's words echoed in his helm. _I'll_ always _wait for ya, mate._ The things Crosshairs said may have never struck the mech, himself, even though they meant the world to Drift. Shaking the thought, Drift focused and steadily made his way upwards, grabbing onto Crosshairs, who had, indeed, waited for him at the very top.

Drift huffed, trying to steady his fuel pump, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. "I hope there was a good reason for this, Crosshairs."

" ‘Course there is!" Crosshairs gestured to the cityscape marking the skyline. Drift straightened and walked to the far edge of the building as Crosshairs silently followed. Below, he could make out the reddish tint of the market sector closest to their position, which faded as his optics swept further into the distance. The red faded into orange, then purple, then black marked with twinkling multicolored lights where the short buildings grew into tall, looming ones. He could make out the entertainment sector filled with garish lighting over casinos, dance clubs, and night cinemas. He could also distinguish the gigantic skyscrapers meant for business offices, black outlines against a dark blue night sky. Above, tiny stars littered the skies like snowflakes frozen in the air along with the metallic yellow Luna 2. Drift vented inwards and closed his optics, recognizing the smell of the warm treats Crosshairs had purchased for him earlier that night, listening to the general din of haggling, car horns, and rumbling engines.

Drift reopened his optics, still facing the spectacle. "It's beautiful, Crosshairs," he breathed. "How did you find it?"

"Back when I was young and stupid, I used ta run along the roofs and climb buildings like no tomorrow. That was, until I finally tripped one day and fell flat on my face. Then, I looked up and stared and stared. The entire time, I'd been lookin' down at the ground without ever really botherin' ta stop movin' and just look up." Crosshairs snaked his arm around Drift's slender waist, admiring the magnificent view with his lover. He chuckled as he nuzzled Drift's neck, then paused with lips hovering just next to Drift's audial. "Ya know, I was never good with words, so I felt that I needed ta show ya this." He sighed, closed his optics, and leaned his head on Drift's before continuing, "Whenever I look at'cha, whenever ya smile, this is how I feel: just... just awestruck by everything ya are."

Crosshairs reopened his optics when Drift turned towards him, wide-eyed, unable to say anything. What does one say to something like that? Drift wrapped his arms around Crosshairs in a great hug, the larger mech holding him tightly. He gripped Crosshairs as if he would vanish. No apologies, no denials, no accusations of lying. Just acceptance. It felt like pure bliss to be devoid of any doubts of himself. Moreover, Crosshairs had done this to him, given him the confidence he thought he'd lost forever. _Primus, please don't take this one away from me,_ he pleaded to the beautiful skies. Drift whispered, "Don't let go."

"Ya'd have to let go before I do," Crosshairs assured.

"Thank you," Drift sighed waveringly. _Thank you for picking me up when I had fallen. Thank you for believing in me when I never did. Thank you for everything._ He wished that he could muster the steadiness in his vocalizer to thank Crosshairs for all of the kind things he had done, to proclaim how wonderful he was. Drift squeezed his optics shut and took in a breath of Crosshairs's scent. Horrifically, Drift could only wring out, "I love you."

Crosshairs nodded, stroking the lengths of Drift's helicopter blades. "Love ya, too, Drift." It was concise. It was sincere.

It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More dumb music. :B  
> http://youtu.be/TeXruFTmHUk
> 
> Thanks for putting up with my lame-aft titles. DX They're all for a good reason, though! ;) Wink, wink.


	7. Oh, That I Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crosshairs helps battle Drift's inner demons, but will it be enough?  
> (OMG THESE SUMMARIES ARE SO CHEESY, GOMEN)

" _This is not new to me_  
 _As I sit in this boat_  
 _But I'm so cold my bones, will freeze_  
 _And there's naught through the haze_  
 _I've been waiting so long_  
 _But my hour has gone, away_."

~"Oh That I Had" by Mt. Eden

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shift, a whimper, silence.

A moan, a shift, a gasp.

Something laying next to Crosshairs jolted upwards, huffing rapidly. The weight it had imposed on the berth lifted as peds quietly, though hurriedly, moved away. A cold gust lashed at Crosshairs, making him open an optic ridge.

An empty space occupied where Drift had lain, a bundle of deflated covers flung aside sloppily. Drift had forgotten to close the door to Crosshairs's berthroom, allowing the green mech to see into the rest of the apartment. Crosshairs's orderly mess of tools still lay strewn on the floor next to the living room window, blinds pulled hastily shut so only a sliver of the sleeping city showed. Half-full metal mugs sat on the kitchenette counter to the right of Crosshair's door, rings of condensation having evaporated groons ago, leaving circular water stains on the otherwise smooth surface. Datapads rested in a ubiquitous layout about the apartment, unperturbed and gathering a healthy layer of dust. Everything seemed unchanged, save for Drift's now closed berthroom door, normally left open for ease of entry.

Gingerly, Crosshairs heaved himself off of the berth, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes with a palm. He took his time shuffling to Drift's room, the absence of his lover driving him to the door opposite to his. Crosshairs tapped lightly on Drift's door before pushing the button to open it. Drift sat on his berth with his back facing Crosshairs, whimpering as he hugged his knees and rocked back and forth.

Drift's state definitely snapped Crosshairs awake. He murmured, "Drift," making the smaller mech freeze and cease his light sobbing.

"I-I'm sorry," Drift apologized with a static-filled voice. "Did- Did I wake you?"

"No, no, no, Drift. What'sa matter?" Crosshairs spoke softly.

"I-It's nothing. Go back to sleep, Crosshairs." Drift's glitch-ridden voice remained as he gulped in an attempt to gain a steadier voice to little avail.

"I'm not goin' ta rest easy tonight with ya like this," Crosshairs responded firmly. He crawled onto Drift's berth and sat in front his berthmate, who reached out and embraced him tightly. Crosshairs stroked Drift's back and rotor, whispering soothingly, "Everything's alright, now. Nothin's gonna get'cha."

Drift's condition hammered at Crosshairs's spark, but he did all he could do: simply be there to comfort Drift. When Drift felt the need to, he would open up and tell him what was amiss, so Crosshairs didn't pry. He could wait. Drift cried quietly with small sniffles and sobs, unassuming and fragile. Thankfully, the crying slowed, his frame quit shaking, and ventilation patterns resumed a normal pace.

"D'ya think ya can recharge, again? I'll stay up so I can wake ya if ya get any nightmares," Crosshairs supplied gently.

Drift quivered before saying, "I-I need to tell you something, first." He shivered momentarily, then stilled.

"Ya don't have to if ya don't want to. It can always be later."

Drift shook his head. "It must be said," he said resolutely, despite his shakiness. He drew back from Crosshairs and looked down, clearing his vocalizer before starting. "You know that you weren't the first mech I interfaced with..." Crosshairs nodded, though Drift still didn't look up. "Well, my first time was... I didn't have a choice. Before I worked as a buymech, I begged on the streets. One day, a group of strangers told me they'd take care of me, that I wouldn't have to beg, anymore." Drift laughed bitterly. "I was so gullible. They lured me to an abandoned building and trapped me in the basement, where they tied me down and... and had their way with me." Drift's voice faltered. "I screamed and called out, but no one could hear me. They kept me locked in there, doing what their sparks desired, until one of the mechs accidentally left the keys to my escape." The blue and black mech regained some of his composure, closing his optics and venting slowly. "Shortly after, I became a buymech. I figured that I had the right frame type. I also didn't want to be caught by surprise the next time a mech took advantage of me. At least at the Salty Spittoon, I knew each mech's intent clearly, not to mention they paid handsomely for my services."

An awkward silence passed between them, Drift still unable to look up out of shame while Crosshairs looked at him with concern, unsure what to say. After a few cycles, he voiced a question that bothered him while Drift told his story. "If ya don't mind me askin', I'd like to know why ya trusted me when I offered ya help."

Drift vented slowly, closing his optics. "I didn't. Not at first, at least. Quite some time had passed after the raping." Crosshairs cringed at the word because he realized that he couldn't do anything to change Drift's past, no matter how hard he tried. "I now know how to spot those with malicious intentions, and I initially felt skeptical of your integrity; however the way you treated me and looked at me possessed no form of depravity. I...it felt like you genuinely cared. It sounds uncharacteristically naïve, and I'd never encountered anyone like you before, but I felt that you were... different from all the rest. I guess you might call it a gut feeling." Drift chuckled and smiled warmly, no longer afraid of the shadows that haunted him. He felt as if a tremendous weight lifted off of his shoulders by simply telling another about his demons. He leaned into Crosshairs's warmth with that goofy smile still on his face plates.

"Drift, if it makes ya feel any better, I'll always be here ta make sure nothin' hurts ya. I promise." Crosshairs patted the smaller mech's back assuringly.

"I know, now. Thank you." Drift placed a small kiss on Crosshairs's neck. He closed his optics and allowed Crosshair's rhythmic ventilation patterns to lull him into recharge. Crosshairs stayed awake a little while longer to ensure his lover had drifted to recharge before also dozing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAR SCRAPPY MUSIC. :V  
> http://youtu.be/3Y8IlyT0ssk
> 
> WOO MORE HALF-ASSED TITLES!!!


	8. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, final goodbyes before the storm.

Drift stared at the bold block Cybertronian lettering indicating a government-issued notice. The message still hung at the top of his unread electronic mail list, but he knew too well what it contained.

" **DRAFT NOTICE: YOU HAVE BEEN RANDOMLY SELECTED TO ENLIST** ," the subject line read. Drift closed his optics and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb as he sat cross-legged on his berth. The war between the Decepticons and Autobots had already begun. After a heated debacle between mandatory drafting in Autobot-controlled areas and Decepticon draft protestors, both factions had agreed to instill a draft via randomized lottery that required each mech chosen to enlist in either the Autobot or Decepticon ranks.

Propaganda posters seemed to hang on every corner, every public building, in every city, advertising either faction. Mechs started hanging colored flags over their doors, indicating which faction they supported. Fights started breaking out between pro-Autobot and pro-Decepticon enthusiasts. Everywhere he looked, more mechs left their homes, more apartments and hotels listed in large letters: "VACANCY." One by one, each of their neighbors had moved out, called by the draft, divided into two, no longer playfully jesting with one another. Spouses had split, friends had cut ties, and relationships had broken. He could only wish for the best between him and Crosshairs.

A knock shook Drift out of his deliberations as Crosshairs, spotting the datapad in Drift's hands, asked, "You, too, eh?" Drift grunted an affirmative. He let the datapad slide to the floor as he stood to greet his lover with a hug and two quick kisses.

"It was only a matter of time," Drift admitted. Whenever he walked out of the apartment, the eerie emptiness in the adjacent rooms caught him by surprise. They had been lucky enough to hold out for that long, but it seemed their luck had just run out.

Crosshairs nodded in agreement. "D'ya know what'cher gonna pick?"

"No," Drift lied. He knew exactly which side he would choose, though he feigned uncertainty, in case Crosshairs favored the opposing faction. He hoped to Primus that his decision wouldn't split them apart permanently and leave tensions between them.

"Same," Crosshairs responded. He placed his hands behind his helm and straightened his spinal strut. "At least they're givin' us five light cycles ta decide."

"Oh, really? I haven't opened the message, yet." Drift smiled sheepishly.

"Aw, Drift! Shame on ya! What if it'd been only a couple o' hours?" Crosshairs teased. They both shared a short forced laugh.

Drift looked down morosely and sighed. "There isn't a way out of this, is there?" He already knew the answer, but the benefit of the doubt helped a little.

Crosshairs elbowed Drift jokingly. "If there were, everyone and their carrier would be doin' it!" Crosshairs succeeded in pulling a smile across Drift's face plates, despite himself.

"Say, how about we get out of here? Take our minds off of this? My treat!" Drift offered.

"Sounds good! Where d'ya want to go?"

"How about everywhere?"

"Alright, what'cha waitin' for? Let's go!" Crosshairs said enthusiastically. They both were scheduled to work later, but what the hell? The threat of being fired didn't bother them at all as they rushed out of the apartment in a hurry, as if running away from their destinies. The clock ticked for the both of them, crushing the amount of time they had together mercilessly as the dawn of fate came closer and closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drift ambled through the empty hallways of the apartment complex. It seemed as if only he and Crosshairs occupied the building. The previous occupants of the empty rooms had thrown out articles of furniture and piled them high at the front, with no one but the garbage disposal workers to pick them up. The deafening silence only served to confirm the brevity of his stay.

Drift offlined his optics, leaning against a door frame of one of the numerous vacated rooms. There used to be so much life and noise amongst those halls. A crying shame. He onlined his optics and took his time on his way back, reminiscing on the pleasantries he and the neighbors had exchanged only a few deca-cycles ago. Was it all really in the past? Could he no longer go back to the life that once was?

With a gloomy expression, Drift opened the door to their apartment, not bothering to close it. No one would be passing by anytime soon. He stared at the mess of both his and Crosshairs's belongings scattered about the apartment, wondering what the place would look like empty. It wasn't as disorderly as usual, for both of them had begun packing, discarding, and organizing things into crates for storage.

Languidly, Drift finally closed the door, looking towards Crosshairs's closed berthroom door with a sigh. Drift turned to his right and headed into the washroom, fully intending to take a long, warm shower. He closed the door, chuckling when he thought about the number of doors he'd closed in his life. As water trickled down his face upon turning the shower's dials, he wondered at how many more bridges he'd have to burn.

Drift rolled his shoulders, tilting his helm so the water could seep between seams in his armor. The pitter-patter of water droplets masked the sound of the door quietly opening and shutting.

A familiar gruff voice surprised him. "Drift," it said. Drift turned to face Crosshairs, who stood on the tiled washroom floor.

"Crosshairs!" Drift exclaimed, flustered. Crosshairs's sudden appearance certainly surprised him. He turned down the water a little. "Was there something you needed me for?"

Crosshairs rushed underneath the shower of water and planted a rough kiss on Drift's lips. When he stopped and beheld Drift's delightfully bewildered look, he explained, "Sorry. I was just... I was just thinking so much about'cha and about how everythin's all too soon. I might not-" For once, Crosshairs's voice betrayed fear and anxiety. "I might not see ya again." The green mech cupped golden face plates, cherishing the feeling of the smooth plating under his servos as if Drift would soon evaporate.

"I've been feeling the same way, Crosshairs. It makes me feel lonely whenever I think about it," Drift admitted. He slouched a little, reminded of the imminent parting. They may not be able to see each other again, once they were drafted. Even if they did choose the same side, they would most likely wind up in different units and would have minimal time to spend together, if any at all.

In response, Crosshairs bowed his helm and nuzzled Drift's neck. "How 'bout ya lemme fix that?" He placed delicate kisses along Drift's neck cables and jaw, and Drift gripped Crosshairs's waist with a sigh as water continued to rain down on them, letting Crosshairs's lips and glossa take him. "I'll take that as a ‘yes,’ " Crosshairs purred smugly. He snaked his hands down Drift's back, slowly curling a servo around Drift's aft. He lifted one of Drift's legs and pressed him against the wall. Drift vented heavily in anticipation, electric blue eyes locked on Crosshairs's. The blue and black mech opened his interface port cover, still looking at his lover, who extended his spike, in turn. Drift let Crosshairs grasp his other leg and lift him, scuffing him lightly against the wall. Crosshairs lowered Drift onto his spike, thrusting only the tip repeatedly into Drift's valve. Crosshairs had begun instigating interface sessions more frequently. They both knew the reason why. It was already Day Three since the arrival of the draft notices, and time didn't pass them by any slower. It was only a matter of time before everything became but a distant memory.

Drift pushed these fatalistic thoughts from his processor, focusing on his sparkmate surging through his valve. It felt so good. Primus knew when he'd have this again. He moaned and gasped as Crosshairs hammered into him, making him scrape more against the wall. Crosshairs spoke in a low, sultry voice, "I wanna hear ya scream, Drift. Let it all out."

"Ngh! Oh! _**Oh, Crosshairs**!_ " Drift screamed. He felt grateful for the apartment complex's emptiness, for once. No more neighbors annoyed by their loud love-making, complaining to the land lord incessantly. Crosshairs continued thrusting into Drift, going at a pace fast enough to get him heated but not enough for him to overload. It drove him over the edge as he pleaded, "Please, Crosshairs. Faster!" His green speedster flashed a toothy grin and started pounding at a relentless pace, hitting Drift's ceiling nodes over and over. Drift didn't last long, his valve convulsing in overload and coaxing Crosshairs's spike into release, milking it in the final thrusts.

Drift wrapped his arms around Crosshairs, pressing his lips against Crosshairs's mouth. "I love you," he breathed.

"I love ya, too," Crosshairs said hastily before connecting with Drift, again. Their water bill would probably skyrocket from all the water they wasted, but neither of them cared. They let themselves lose each other in fervid kissing and tender nuzzling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day Five. The final day. Scores of mechs loitered and shambled about, procrastinating around the designated regional draft offices, which stood as nothing more than a public transit station split down the middle: the transit metro to Autobot training grounds on the right, and the one for Decepticons on the left. Black streak marks marred the normally shiny ice-colored tiled floors from all of the peds treading on them. Crosshairs clutched at his citizenship records and personal datapads, then looked at the shorter black and blue mech standing next to him.

Soft blue optics blinked and gazed back intently, filled with restrained sorrow, though the mech's face portrayed a smile. "Didja figure out what'cher pickin'?" Crosshairs asked nervously.

Drift looked down and scuffed a ped against a black tire mark on the ground. "Ah, yes. I wish to join the Decepticons." Crosshairs closed his optics and vented outward. That was exactly what he didn't want to hear. "What...what faction are you joining?"

Crosshairs reopened his optics, looking down at his lover's smile, which had retreated upon Crosshairs's reaction. Drift already knew the answer, but Crosshairs responded, anyway, "The Autobots."

A silence. Then, Drift's understanding smile. "Ya know," Crosshairs broke in. "The Decepticons're just gonna use ya. There's somethin' more that they want, and they'll do anything to get it. They'll lie, kill, and cheat. If ya just so happen ta be blockin' their way... I'm afraid for ya, Drift," he said in a hushed whisper.

To his horror, Drift shook his helm resolutely. "I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself, Crosshairs. Give them a chance. What if they actually do everything right in the end? What if there're no more mechs on the streets selling themselves off like I had to? What's there to be afraid of if there's true equality in the end? And what about you? You'll be fighting to protect the Senate! Do you know how corrupt our government is under them?"

"Drift, don't. Ya don't know their motives, so don't go hopin' or assumin' things just because they say it. At least the Autobots aren't willin' to lynch a guy for disobeyin' them. Have ya _seen_ what goes on durin' Decepticon rallies? Listen-"

"No, _you_ listen! This is a choice that _I'm_ making! _I'll_ handle the repercussions once everything is over. _I'll_ be the one who suffers the consequences, good or bad." Drift had a look on his face that could only be described as utter stalwartness.

Crosshairs took a step back. He wouldn't persuade Drift even if he could persuade a mountain. "That's an awful burden ta carry by yerself, Drift." He placed a servo on Drift's shoulder. "I don't condone what'cher doin', but I hope ya find what'cher lookin' for."

Drift nodded and hugged his lover. "I hope that the next time we see each other, it will be in a good time and place."

Crosshairs held Drift tightly. If _we see each other._ He bit back his glossa. No, no tears. No crying. He wanted the last moments between him and Drift to end on a happy note. "I love you." He coddled his beloved in his harms.

"I love you," Drift said with a waver in his voice. He squeezed his optics shut.

" **Attention: Last call for all draftees. Please board in an orderly manner...** " the intercom blared in the station, causing every mech to stir and rush to their chosen metros. Mechs flooded around them like the night at the market district, except this time, Crosshairs and Drift would go their separate ways, as two lovers leaving in opposing directions.

Crosshairs held onto Drift's servo tightly as they hurried to the loading zone, but nonetheless, a mech crashed between them and severed their connection. Crosshairs looked futilely in Drift's direction, unable to do anything amidst the tide of metal bodies. Drift called something unintelligibly as the crowd pushed him away. The Autobot draftees pull Crosshairs from his sparkmate, everyone shoving to get their records scanned and get on board.

Finally, Crosshairs gave up on pushing against the flow of mechs, turning and following the current. Somberly, he lifted his records to the scanner and boarded the metro, finding a seat in the corner, surrounded by strangers and alone. He closed his optics, running his last moments with Drift through his processor over and over, up to the point where they had separated all too soon. Drift had mouthed the words, "I love you."

Wordlessly, Crosshairs lifted his hand to his chest, just over his spark chamber. His spark ached, feeling as if it had been crushed by a great servo. He lifted his other hand to his forehead, closing his optics and letting a single tear travel down his face plates.

Farewell, Drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEELSIES SONG COMING YOUR WAY: http://youtu.be/vdl45MSbRtU


End file.
